


Hidden Desires

by runawaygypsy



Category: Loki - Fandom
Genre: Bondage and Discipline, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-16
Updated: 2014-05-16
Packaged: 2018-01-25 00:21:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1622252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runawaygypsy/pseuds/runawaygypsy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A surprise visit from Loki opens up some of your hidden desires.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hidden Desires

It's a warm night and, despite the warning of intruders, the window is open, the fan is on, anything to escape the sticky heat that came much too early this year. You lie in bed, tossing and turning, as naked as the day you were born, covered by a single cotton sheet that you hoped would help wick away the layer of sweat that covered every inch of your skin and help alleviate the uncomfortable night. Afraid there will be no sleep, you try to will yourself to sleep thinking about mundane things like grocery shopping and washing your car, but it's no use. Your brain just wants to think, to make to-do lists. 

Annoyed, you turn on your small bedside light and grab the book you've been reading and delve your attentions between the pages, eyes caressing each word, lips tasting them as they almost form in your mouth. It is a disturbing tale, though elegantly written, and does not help your present situation. You toy with the idea of putting the book down, but you are rapt. As you are pulled ever deeper into the sordid story, you hear a noise, the flutter of your curtains, the slam of the fan as it falls on the floor.

Startled, you look up, only to see a man with long black hair, dressed in leather standing with his back to you. He turns, a sidelong glance in your direction, and you see his profile, the chiseled jawline, sharp cheekbone, angular nose, deep green eyes. “What are you reading, my pet?” he hisses, his eyes bound to the book in your hand. A flash of recognition passes over his face and a sly smile curls on his lips. “Justine.”

Embarrassed to be caught reading something so obscene, even a centuries old text, you slam the book shut and slide it in the drawer of your bedside table. Your cheeks begin to flush and your already warm body becomes a burning ember. “It's nothing,” you try to explain, but you get the distinct feeling he already knows. 

The sudden thought that you are not disturbed by this unexpected visitor, but by the fact that he caught you reading a story by the Marquis De Sade seems a bit preposterous. Narrowing your eyes, you ask, “Who are you and what are you doing in my bedroom.” You look around for the nearest weapon-like object you can grab and realize, you have nothing, save the lamp that is lighting up the room. You grab it and hold it in the air. “Don't come any closer to me,” you threaten as you stand up and move towards the door.

In a flash, the lamp is yanked from your grip by an unseen force and you are pinned up against the wall, your wrists bound above your head, your feet spread apart and ankles in shackles. “I think you know who I am,” he smiled, his languid form slithering towards you. He reaches you and leans close to your ear. “Loki,” he whispers. You can feel his breath as it tickles against your skin, a cold sensation compared to the heat you are generating. 

His names sparks a slight recognition. You've heard it before, then realize that this is the God of Mischief. “Please, let me go, I'll do whatever you say,” you try to bargain with him, your eyes tearing up, pleading.

A look of disdain crosses his face. “Of course you will, but it will be your will, not your lowly begging,” he roars, “You desire this.” He pulled open the drawer and pulled out the book. “I've heard your thoughts, little one. This is what you've been wanting. You need to be controlled, and I am just the one to fulfill those fantasies.”

In a flash, you are blindfolded, unable to tell if the light is still on. You whimper in fear, almost glad you are suspended because you would be unable to stand on your now-weakened legs. Opening your mouth to plead to him again, you are greeted with a ball-gag, silencing you from all but incoherent sounds.

“You'll want to scream when I am through with you,” he growls, “But you won't be able to until I want to hear it.”

Something soft touches your leg, lazily tickling the back of your knee, then fluttering up your thigh. It jumps to the other leg and repeats the motions, but, this time, instead of stopping at your thigh, gently grazes your sex and continues up your stomach, sending a maddening jolt of desire through you. It is a feather, you realize as it reaches one nipple, swirling around it, arousing it, hardening it. The feather moves to the other nipple, tickling and teasing it. You moan at the deliciousness and are enjoying these soft caresses a little too much when you feel the sudden pain of teeth as they bite down on one hardened nub. You gasp at the pain, another electrical charge shoots to your nether regions. 

There is a low laugh and you hear him mumble against you, “You see? You desire this”

Nodding your head, you want to tell him where, when and how to touch you, but you are helpless. The feather has moved back down, dancing upon your mound, little touches that make you want harder touches, until there is another sudden pain, this time a riding crop against your ass. It's sting is sharp, it's mark a warm line across your skin. He plays across this spot with the feather, easing it into a dull ache and then smacks you with the crop again and again, eliciting welts on your backside, you are sure. You grunt with each smack and begin to breath raggedly as your defenses are worn down. 

Ready to move to another instrument, you hear him set the riding crop down. You are hoping for another feather, but what you get is his mouth, long tongue licking the lash marks, flicking at them, inciting them to ache more. “You taste delicious,” he purrs as he stands back up. “Perhaps you would like more?”

You whimper again, feeling the heat that is in your center form waves of desire that begin dripping down your leg. “Hmmm,” he groans appreciatively, “It seems you are enjoying this perhaps a bit too much.” A hand slaps on your mound, grasping your cunt, squeezing you, making you moan. You try to grind against him, but your suspension gives you no leverage. “You'll get no satisfaction until I want you to,” he whispers, his voice thick.

Loki picks something else up with his other hand and you feel the crop again, this time brushing against your nipples, toying with them, and then another thwack, right across your breasts. He waits for you to moan again, then smacks them again. Tears begin to form in your eyes and run down your cheeks. Your cries are muffled by the gag. “Does this hurt you pet?” he hisses. “These blows are barely enough to cause a mark, much less draw blood. I've had you pegged as tougher than that.”

You whimper and feel another smack, this time hitting on your inner thigh, the sting sending another jolt as yet another lash hits your other thigh. Your skin begins to feel raw, almost burnt with each blow and you try to wriggle away, an act that seems to infuriate him. “You'll not move a muscle now,” he commands and suddenly you feel another pair of hands holding your hips, keeping you immobilized. 

You can't tell who the newcomer is until you feel his breath upon your neck and hear Loki's voice again. “I'm going to mark you as mine,” he says, then sinks his teeth into the flesh right above your collar bone. 

“Oh, God, two of them,” you think. Your mind is in a blind panic, halfway between fear and titillation. 

The hand that has clenched your mound moves, making the air as it hits you seem cooler, almost refreshing until it is suddenly smothered again, this time by Loki's mouth. He thrusts his tongue into your cunt, pointing and swirling it, driving you mad as it avoids any tender spots. His doppelganger pulls the ball gag from your mouth and replaces it with his tongue, working your mouth as his double works your nether regions. The dual Lokis makes your breath come harder and harder, both tongues, both movements threatening to send you over the edge. You feel him move his tongue over your clit, swishing it, his teeth biting the bud, teasing it into submission, and you come, your hips bucking as best they can against him as he hits the sweet spot. You want to scream, need to scream his name, but your mouth is held hostage.

Both Lokis stop at the same time, leaving you breathless, your chest heaving, your body buzzing. “Don't stop,” you manage to pant.

There is a single deep laugh from in front of you and the hands that are holding your hips evaporate. “The time has come for you to scream my name,” he says, removing the blindfold from you. 

As your eyes adjust to the light, you see that his clothes are gone, his impressive cock standing at attention. He snaps his fingers and the shackles on your ankles disappear. Loki moves so he is standing chest to chest, skin to skin with you. His eyes are lidded with lust as he lifts you up, pulling your legs around his waist. He lowers you down, sheathing himself in your saturated folds and you groan as you adjust to him. He kisses you passionately, gently nipping at your lip, flicking his tongue with yours and you can taste yourself on his lips. Lifting you up more, you feel him pull out almost all the way and then he drops you down again, an instantaneous moan of pure pleasure escaping your mouth. You gyrate your hips, grinding down on him, making the tip hit your deepest center of lust and keep moving until you are writhing, panting. 

He dives his head down and takes one of your nipples in his mouth, biting, flicking and rolling it, sending a zap that triggers your orgasm. “Oh, God!” you scream.

“Say my name,” he growls into your ear.

“Loki!,” your voice pierces the darkness. As your walls squeeze around him, clenching in frenzy, his thrusts get harder and you feel him come, his cock twitching in ecstasy. With each movement, you scream his name, your volume decreasing with your fatigue.

With one last thrust, he pulls out and the bonds around your wrists disappear. Loki holds you by the waist and carries you to the bed, laying you down. “Now, my pet,” he whispers, stroking your hair, “You are mine. You will belong to no other man”

You smile drowsily, sleep threatening now to overtake you. “Loki,” you whisper, “My God.”

Loki turns off the light and curls up on the bed next to you. “Tomorrow, we'll explore more of your hidden desires.”


End file.
